


Method

by soraniknatu



Series: Focal Point [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:52:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraniknatu/pseuds/soraniknatu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young woman on the production crew discovers that she's not the only one who has been staring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Method

The truck backs into the loading bay and slips the last few feet, banging loudly into the buffer. Even before the truck bounces away, the door is flipped open and the truck is unloaded. 

Snow falls onto my bare arms as icy cold wind cuts through any gap that it can find, chilling me to the bone. A blizzard had impeded the arrival of many of the production trucks and work that would have been done hours before still needed to be done. I grabbed as many things as I could carry and rushed into the arena. Due to the blizzard, I had only just arrived and hadn’t a chance to change into the standard black of the production crew. After a few runs back and forth to the trucks, my t-shirt stated sticking to my back and my hands felt slippery with sweat. 

Each arena has a storage area set aside for the camera crew and tonight’s arena has one large room for our use. 

“Camera girl!” My boss yells as I enter the room. “Why aren’t you changed?”

“I just got here as the trucks arrived!” I set down the boxes and take a handheld radio from him. 

“No pictures until the gear is unloaded and checked for problems!” He warns. 

I nod and clip the radio to my back pocket. I had received permission from him a while back to take pictures when the job allowed. Photography had always been an interest of mine and was why I had gone into production work. It was also why I was called “camera girl” amongst the crew and the wrestlers. Some joked that they don’t recognize me unless I have my camera in front of my face. Others (mostly men) would tease me that I was using my photography as an excuse to get closer to the hotter wrestlers. I would ignore it except to retort that the men on the production crew talked about the Divas far more than any of the women on the crew talked about the Superstars. 

Everyone had their favourites and The Superstars would often flirt with the women on the production crew. The girls would usually brush it off as they had seen first hand how free and loose many of the Superstars could be with women while traveling. 

I was intrigued by the pageantry of the whole scene and thought the Superstars were a lot like method actors, staying in their roles while in the arena. Some relished in their roles as villains and would brood darkly in the corner of the makeshift catering area or pace maliciously through the halls before show time. One such villain was this one guy I first noticed when I started working for the company. He had just come up from development but had the swagger of a champion. During promos I’d help film, he’d pace back and forth, cocking his head from side to side and running his wrapped hand through his wet dirty blond hair. When we’d unload gear, I’d see him arrive early. Dark sunglasses would obscure his eyes and his head would be down while he pulled his luggage behind him. He’d often have his headphones on and he’d ignore the gathered fans, which I found odd as even some of the worst heels would sign for the people that gathered before the show. As I’d take gear to the makeshift HQ, I’d see him warming up in the hallways, already in his uniform of riot gear and dark clothes. His messy hair would hang in his face as he did pushups on his fingertips, the muscles of his arms would flex with each movement and I’d hear him grunt with the effort. He caught me staring at him once while he was warming up. His hair hung down over his face as he continued to do push ups, his cold ice blue eyes on me. I quickly took off, my cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

My camera bag hung from my shoulder as I look the last few rolls of cable and coiled them around my free arm. My boss came out with a box full of handheld cameras and gave them to me. Standing in the loading bay with my shirt soaked with sweat, the cold air of the blizzard felt nice. 

“See if you can fix those bastards,” He points at the box in my hand. “If I need anything, I’ll contact you by radio but it should be a pretty slow night for you.”

I nod and head off into the arena. Being told that it would be a slow night makes me bold and when I see a setting just begging to be photographed, I set down the box and cables and take my camera from the case. I quickly turn my camera on and set up the shot. In the viewfinder, I see a cluster of people running to and fro in a mix of drab street clothes and colourful wrestling gear. I use the photographs I take as a chronicle of my travels and I often get asked my Superstars and Divas if I can give them copies of the shots I take. Despite always catching myself staring at the dirty blond method wrestler, I noticed that I had never taken a picture of him. 

I repack my camera, pick up the gear and head for the storage room. 

As I turn the last corner, I ran straight into the dirty blonde. The box of cameras uncomfortably presses into me and I grimace as I look up at him. He is a full head and a half taller than me. I hadn’t seen him arrive as I was unloading but he is already geared up for the evening except for his hands, which he had been wrapping before I had run into him. I take a step back.

“I’m sorry,” I smile nervously. I look away, his gaze is as hard and sharp as a glacier. 

I take a step to the side to get past him and he follows me. I let out a nervous laugh and look up at him. The corner of his mouth is lifted ever so slightly and I see his eyes look right like he’s daring me to try my luck. I move to the right and he mirrors me. 

I nervously laugh again and look down at the cameras. “Umm, I’ve got to get started on these cameras.” 

I meet his gaze again and he smirks. He takes a step aside and grandly gestures my path down the hall. I smile and head down the hall to the storage room. As I reach the door, I look back and see he’s watching me. He finishes wrapping his hands and tightens his hand into a fist. I enter the room and shut the door. 

I set down the spare cables and put the box of cameras on a table straight across from the door. I had set my overnight bag under the table earlier and I crouch down to pull it out. Opening it, I take a small towel out to wipe my face and a clean shirt to change into. 

I stand up straight and pull my sweaty shirt over my head and toss it atop the bag with the towel. I kick it under the table and put the new shirt on.

I turn around to grab the tools to fix the camera near the door and gasp when I see the dirty blond leaning against the door. 

I pull my shirt down to cover my stomach and my cheeks redden. How long has he been there? 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I reply nervously. I walk over to wear the tool kit is for something to do. I feel him watching me. I walk back to the spot across from him near the table and ask, “Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer.

I take a camera from the box and motion to him with it, “Do you need a camera for a promo? I can have this one fixed in a moment.”

He shakes his head, no.

Moments pass and I’m so nervous that I start to strip the screw I’m trying to unscrew. 

“I’ve got work to do.” I say finally. I turn and set the camera down. I look over my shoulder at him, “You sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?”

“You’re the Camera Girl. The one that’s always taking pictures.” His voice seems scarred by cigarettes and it vibrates the marrow of my bones. 

I nod and turn to look at him. 

“You’ve never taken a picture of me.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” I answer. 

“But you’re always staring at me,” He says. 

I feel myself blushing and I blurt out, “No I don’t!”

He smirks, “Yeah you do.” He speaks slow, “I always see you around. When you talk to your friends, you stare. Carrying your cables from the truck, you stare. When I’m warming up in the hall, you think I don’t see, but I know you’re looking…”

“No I don’t!” I repeat. 

“All this staring and no pictures. Why not?” 

After a moment, I shrug, “I don’t know.” 

“Yeah you do,” He drawls. 

“Maybe it’s because I don’t think I could ask you?” I put my hands behind my back. “You’re always so method.”

“Method?” He lifts his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, so immersed in your role.” I chuckle. “You’re a bit scary.” 

He smiles and kicks lightly away from the door. He turns around and I barely hear him when he says, “I’m not scary.” 

The door locks and I feel my breath catch in my throat. 

He turns around and his head is down, his eyes are feral. He paces up to me and backs me into the table. He’s so close I can feel the breath of his mouth on my lips. 

“What are you doing?” I ask quietly. I sound like a mouse and I try to back away but he follows me. I can smell his cologne. 

“I came to see you. I always see you around,” His hand is on my hip and I feel like I might fall. “You always stare at me when you think I don’t notice,”

“No I don’t….” I stop short when he puts his finger to my lips. 

“But I’m always looking at you when you don’t notice.” He pulls his finger away.  


“I notice.” 

“Sometimes,” His voice is soft and he moves his head closer. “I always know when you notice. You always shiver when I look at you.” His lips catch mine with each word. “Like you are now.”

My breath is caught in my throat as his hand on my hip slides up and under my t-shirt. The wraps of his hands feel soft on my skin as it starts to goosepimple under his touch. 

“You can breath now,” He says with a smirk.  
I gasp when he suddenly reaches down and pulls me up onto the table in such a way that my legs wrap around him. He undoes the buckle of my belt and pulls it free from the loops of my jeans. He slowly undoes the button of my jeans and stops. He puts his forehead to mine, lightly coaxing my head back so I look into his eyes. 

“Do you want me to stop?” The way he asks makes me realize that no matter how I answer, he’s not going to ask again. 

I shake my head. “No.” 

He kisses me roughly, taking my breath away as he presses me down to the table. I hear him roughly shove the box of cameras out of the way and he returns his hands to the hem of my shirt. He brings me up and breaks the kiss to pull my shirt over my head. 

I unzip the riot gear vest and slide it off his shoulders and lift his shirt up as he undoes my bra and pulls it free from my arms. He’s pushing me down against the table before I can pull his shirt over his head. The warmth of his skin contrasts with the cold of the table under my shoulders. I tug at his shirt and he finally breaks the kiss so I can take it off of him. He slides down my body, kissing my neck and making his way towards my breasts. His stubble scratches my bare skin as he licks a line between my breasts, holding them in his hands. He slides his lower lip towards my nipple and takes it into his mouth, sucking hard to leave the skin red and I cry out when I feel him scratching me with his teeth. I take a fistful of his hair as I arch my back to stay with him as he pulls away. He unzips my jeans and pulls them down my hips. He loosens my grip on his hair and crouches down to pull my shoes over and slides my jeans off. 

He stands upright and slides his wrapped hands up the sides of my thighs as he takes my underwear in his fists and slides it down. He bends forward and teasingly runs the tip of his tongue up my slit to my Venus mons and towards the lower part of my stomach. I whimper and open my legs for him 

He crouches down again and puts one of my knees over his shoulder. Exposed to the open air, I blush when I feel how wet I am. His stubble sends shivers up my spine as he kisses a path inward across my thigh. He puts my other leg over his other shoulder and snakes his arm around my thigh to rest his hand on my mons. He opens me with his thumb and pointer finger and his tongue is wide as he makes a show of his first slow lick. Looking down at him as he works, he looks like he’s savouring the taste and I almost want to cum right there. 

My thighs tremble and he starts lapping slowly at me, the tip of his tongue always curling over my clit as he pulls away before he comes back almost immediately. I feel sweat beading on my skin and my cheeks burn. He moans into me and I cry out as the vibrations rumble from his tongue to my sensitive skin. I part my legs as wide as I can and he pulls me closer to his mouth. I arch my back when I feel him fucking me with his tongue and I grind down on his face. I clutch at my breast. I reach with my free hand to take a fistful of his hair and pull him closer to me. I feel him smile before he takes my clit into his mouth and sucks. The tip of his tongue works frantically as he holds me in his mouth. His arm wraps around my thigh tightly and he presses down on me hard so I can’t pull away from him. A small voice in my head is telling me I should lock the door, someone might come in but then he has his finger inside of me and I don’t care about anything at all except grinding down harder on him as he fucks me with his finger. 

I feel red hot, my chest heaves, and my body starts to shake as I near climax. He pumps his finger in and out of me and curls it in such a way that he hits my spot and I start to cum. I cry out and close my fist tightly around his hair. I want to pull away but he holds me in his mouth until my last spasm passes. He looses his grip and licks his way back up my body. I shiver with over stimulation and I try to catch my breath. He kisses me and I can taste myself on his tongue. 

He pulls away and his chest rumbles against mine, “Not so scary now.”


End file.
